


The Gentle Art

by serenbach



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenbach/pseuds/serenbach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm hardly a damsel in distress," Robbie pointed out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gentle Art

It was yet another Monday and Robbie entered his office to find a cup of coffee and a raised eyebrow waiting for him.

“What’s going on?” he asked James, the owner of the eyebrow, as he took a quick swig from the mug.

“We’ve been summoned,” James informed him, nodding towards Innocent’s office.

“Really? What have we done now?”

James smirked a little at him. “I couldn’t possibly imagine.” 

Robbie snorted into his drink. While it was true that the two of them probably stepped on more toes than Innocent would like, no-one could say that they didn’t get results. However, he couldn’t think of anyone they’d offended recently, not enough to earn a reprimand, anyway.

Well, there was only one way to find out. He put his (perfect, of course) mug of coffee down by his computer, and gestured towards the door. James got there first and held it open for him with an “after you, sir,” and his arm brushed against Robbie’s as he walked past. 

Robbie blamed the static from James’ shirt-sleeve for the way his skin prickled and shivered. 

\---- 

It had been a long, frustrating day and the end of an even longer, more frustrating week. Every lead they’d followed turned out to be a dead end and their main suspect had a watertight alibi. He was tired, and frustrated, and wanted nothing more than to get home.

So, of course, it had started pouring down since they’d arrived back at the station that lunchtime. And, of course, his car was parked as far away from the door as it was possible to be. Robbie sighed and prepared to dash out into the rain when he heard familiar footsteps come up behind him. James, headed out for a cigarette before he returned to sifting through the victim’s bank statements in the hope of a new lead. 

James made a noise of disgust low in his throat as he stared at the rain. “Where are you parked?” he asked and Robbie nodded towards his car in the furthest corner of the car park. 

James frowned a little at the rain clouds, before deftly plucking his keys out of his hands and slipping out into the rain. “I’m not going to melt!” Robbie called after him, but he couldn’t deny that he was rather relieved not to have to get soaked and shiver all the way home. 

James pulled up as close to the entrance as he could get a few minutes later and jogged back up the steps to return his keys. 

“There you go, sir,” James said, an odd little smile on his face. He had raindrops in his hair, and even clinging to his eyelashes, and Robbie had to resist the urge to carefully wipe them away. 

Robbie shook his head, though whether at his sergeant or his own thoughts he wasn’t sure, and thanked him, driving home in considerably better mood than he had been in when he’d left the office.

\-----

It wasn’t that he objected to James’ smoking, other than on general principles about his health. But waiting outside with him in the middle of winter as he indulged in his habit was a bit much, it had to be said.

“You can always wait inside,” James pointed out, carefully blowing smoke away from his face. 

“I know that,” Robbie replied, although he actually hadn’t considered it. It was just habit, he assumed, ordering food and coffee to go and sitting with James, talking over the latest case or whatever else crossed their minds.

The next day, as Robbie sat down next to James on a bench round the corner from the station, he was handed a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper. “What’s this, then?” he asked.

“It’s for you,” James replied, fiddling with his lighter in a way that seemed strangely nervous. 

Robbie carefully unwrapped the package, pulling out a deep blue scarf knitted in very soft wool. He looked at James, not needing to ask the question aloud. 

“I know you hardy northerners are meant to be impervious to the cold,” James began, “but it didn’t seem fair for you to be cold just because you’re keeping me company out here.”

“Well,” Robbie said, a little surprised and undeniably touched. “Thank you, lad.”

He wound the scarf around his neck, and when he looked up, he realised that James had been following the movement of his hands, and was now looking at the scarf with a hint of a pleased smile touching his lips. 

Robbie looked away quickly, oddly flustered and far feeling warmer than just the scarf could account for. 

\-----

“Lewis,” Innocent called as he headed back to his office. “A quick word.”

He poked his head round her office door, and then came in and sat down when she pointed to a chair. “Yes ma’am?”

“I need you to have a word with Hathaway,” she announced. “His loyalty to you is all very well, but…”

“Hathaway, ma’am?” he interrupted. 

Innocent gave him a sharp look, as if she expected that he was covering for his sergeant. However, after seeing that he was truly in the dark, she sighed and explained, “One of the uniforms made the mistake of questioning your… methods where Hathaway could hear him. I need you to tell him that discipline is my job, not his, and to exercise his vocabulary elsewhere.”

Robbie almost felt sorry for the unfortunate PC. James could be more insulting with his tone of voice and a raised eyebrow than most people could manage with a mouthful of curses. “I’ll tell him, ma’am.”

“See that you do,” she said, dismissing him with a nod.

Robbie walked slowly back to his office, deep in thought. He wasn’t sensitive enough to be offended by an unknown officer questioning his techniques - his record spoke for itself, after all. The fact that James cared enough to speak up, even risking a reprimand, however, was an entirely different matter. He couldn’t help his smile.

James looked up expectantly as he entered their office. He’d obviously worked out that Robbie had just come from Innocent’s office, and was clearly expecting an admonishment, and just as clearly not sorry about it, either. 

Well, loyalty went both ways, didn’t it? “Get on with it, lad,” he said, but he smiled so that James would know that he wasn’t in any trouble - with him, anyway.

“Yes, sir,” James replied. Robbie didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling back.

\----

“So, is this is what this has all been about, then,” Robbie managed to gasp out between kisses. 

“What has?” James asked distractedly, not stopping unbuttoning his shirt, or placing soft, wet kisses down his chest and belly.

The comfortable thread of tension between them that Robbie had gradually become aware of had grown taut and snapped that evening. James had invited him for dinner, and while that wasn’t unusual, James was never usually so _attentive_. He’d helped Robbie out of his coat at the door, cooked his favourite meal and had even pulled his chair out for him when he went to sit at the table. Later, after they had eaten, James had handed him a beer and somehow their fingers had brushed and tangled together. 

Neither of them had wanted to let go. 

“All the… the door opening, and fetching my car and, and, the scarf - were you _courting_ me?” he asked, sliding his hands up the back of James’ shirt.

James made a pleased noise as Robbie lightly ran his nails up his spine. “I was merely being chivalrous,” he replied in a slightly unsteady voice. 

Robbie couldn’t help but laugh a little at the term that was even more old-fashioned than the one he’d used. “You weren’t very chivalrous to that PC,” he pointed out, reaching down to help James unbuckle his belt.

James laughed against his skin and Robbie groaned aloud. “I was defending your honour, sir,” he declared with a smile that promised far less than honourable intentions. 

“I’m not some sort of damsel in distress,” Robbie pointed out, amused even as he impatiently tugged James’ arms from his sleeves. 

“You have been wearing a token of my favour for weeks now, though,” James reminded him, and Robbie thought of the scarf, and the way James looked at him when he looped it round his throat, and pulled him up for a desperate, fervent kiss. 

James pulled away to breathe, caressing his face as he murmured, “the motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one.” 

Robbie stared back at him, feeling awed and shaky and so happy he couldn’t believe it. “Are you going to spend all night talking, or are you going to get on with it, lad?” he asked; his tone achingly fond and his hands gentle and desperate against James’ warm skin.

“I won’t leave you waiting a moment longer,” James promised, carefully unzipping his trousers. “That wouldn’t be chivalrous at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the Porn Battle prompts chivalry, loyalty and discovery. James quotes Honore de Balzac at the end.
> 
> Also, “the gentle art” is how one of my lecturers always referred to medieval chivalry. I’ve just realised that no-one else will get the title!


End file.
